


won't you let your baby be my girl

by indoordisco



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chicken Wings, F/M, Grief, KFC, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, a lil bit of nudity in 1980s rural america never hurt nobody, angst to contentment, how love helps grief, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 00:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12737178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indoordisco/pseuds/indoordisco
Summary: Nancy was 15 when her best friend died.She is 16 now and everyone has forgotten and she doesn’t know how to deal with this.





	won't you let your baby be my girl

**Author's Note:**

> theres not enough about nancy dealing with barb's death?? so that's what this is? kinda? and then it turns into polyamory and fluff?? i dunno
> 
> listen love helps grief but it cant like... stop it
> 
> the title is from single by the neighbourhood 
> 
> ya

Nancy is 15 when her best friend dies. People in school whisper and look when she shoulders through the doors and a hush falls when she sees the memorial on her locker. In that moment, she is incredibly angry. None of these people fucking knew Barb. If they had, the paper on there wouldn’t be green, Barb’s least favourite colour, and if they had they would’ve written something more original than fucking _Rest in peace_.  A cheerleader stops her and tells her she is sorry for her loss and she has to hold back puke when the girl hugs her and she has to clench her fists at her side. She smiles, watery. “Thank you.” She tastes anger and bile in her throat. 

 

She is 16 now and everyone has forgotten and she doesn’t know how to deal with this. A new girl gets Barb’s locker and she watches the teacher hand her the padlock, the one with the code _27-5-39_. She wants to scream _“don’t you dare touch that it belongs to my best friend don’t you fucking touch that!”_ She wants to unlock it and plaster it with photos of Barb, she wants to throw all of this girl’s stuff out on the floor. She breathes hard. She goes to AP Math class and all her equations seem to come out wrong. 

 

She sits in the bathroom at lunch and cries. She seems to do that a lot now. 

 

 

 

Mike gets Eleven back and Nancy wants to scream. She smiles when El walks in the door because she should be happy because her little brother loves her and because she can save their asses but she has to bite her lips and dig her nails into Jonathan’s arm so she doesn’t collapse. She wants her best friend back. Mike leaves to scream at Hopper and El looks frightened and angry and lost and she should be comforting her but instead she thinks maybe El deserves it. And then they’re gone and she collapses on Jonathan’s sofa and stares at the letters on the wall and the hole and she whispers, “It’s not fair. Why does El come back and Barb doesn’t? Why don’t I get my fucking best friend back?” 

 

Jonathan sits next to her, heavy, and nervously puts his arm around her shoulders. She turns her head into his neck and cries. Joyce makes her a cup of coffee and puts it next to her and leaves. Jonathan’s thumb moves up and down her side, slowly, and she times her breath to the movement. Up, in. Down, out. Pause. Up, in. Down, out.  

 

Her chest aches. She misses her best friend.

 

 

 

 

And then Barb’s parents are selling their house and she has to sit in the bathroom and cry again because now Barb will really be gone. All of her memories. The tears drip onto her sweater and she rubs at them furiously because they can’t know. She can’t make them sadder than they already are. They’re worrying about their dead daughter enough as it is, they don’t need to worry about her too. She rubs her eyes, smooths her sweater down and steps out of the room. 

 

She smiles politely, sits down at the table. “Sorry about that.” The smile feels like it is worn deep into her cheeks. 

 

Mrs Holland shakes her head. “It’s alright, honey.”

 

Steve squeezes her elbow. She squeezes back. She wishes Jonathan were here. 

 

She smiles, a little wobbly, and asks how the investigation is going. She wants to break down and scream _“I am so sorry your daughter is dead and it is my fault and maybe my boyfriend’s fault.”_ She wants to tell them everything but instead she stuffs a chicken wing in her mouth and nods interestedly. 

 

She holds Steve’s hand under the table and digs her nails into his palm. 

 

 

 

She gets drunk at that party because it makes her feel better, it feels like two teenagers pretending like they’re in love and going to a party and like they’re dancing and getting shit-faced. Steve drags her to the bathroom when he spills punch down her top and she wants to scream at him so she does. She screams, “Maybe we’re not in love and that there is a gaping hole in me that you could never fucking fill or fix and that I need you, yes, but I need to cry every once in a while and I need to get shit-faced every once in a while and I fucking need Jonathan too.“

 

He looks at her like a kicked puppy and her brain screams, “ _You haven’t seen anything yet. You don’t deserve to look so sad.”_ He says, quiet, “I love you, Nance.”

 

She scoffs. “Okay. I don’t. I can’t. I miss her too much. I loved- love! her too much.”

 

 _“You don’t deserve to look so sad.”_ Her brain screams.  

 

He swallows. “If you need Jonathan, that’s okay. We can stop.” 

 

She wants to laugh or cry or shout but she’s run out of tears and her voice is rough. She laughs. “You need him too, Steve Harrington.”

 

He splutters. “But you like him. Like like him. ”

 

She snorts drunkenly. “What are we, third graders? So do you.”

 

He lets out a punched-out breath. “What do we do, Nancy?”

 

She pushes her shoulders back, stands up straight. “We tell him.”

 

“When? How?” Steve sounds confused as if the option had never occurred to him.

 

“Well, he’s meant to be here tonight, right? So, I take this stupid top off and pretend my bra is my costume, and we go out there and we dance until he turns up. Then we drag him to your car and we just—“ she breathes in deeply— “tell him. And because he’s stupid and stubborn and won’t believe us, we might have to kiss him too.”

 

Steve puts his hand out on the counter to steady himself. Nancy grins and pulls her top over her head. Her bra is black and lacy and looks almost like a top, and she hikes her skirt up and fluffs her hair, and smudges her lipstick. “If anyone asks, I’m being someone from a rock band.” 

 

Steve grins, almost feral, and nods.

 

They leave the bathroom and spot Jonathan almost immediately, which is a shame, because Nancy would’ve quite liked to dance, but then Jonathan is blushing and stuttering and averting his eyes. 

 

“Great to see you, man,” Steve says, clapping his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. Jonathan looks at him, slightly red in the face, and smiles. 

 

“Wasn’t sure I would come.”

 

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Nancy says, squeezing herself under Steve’s arm. Jonathan carefully avoids looking at anything but her chest, and Steve muffles a laugh in her hair. 

 

“We’re gonna head outside for a bit. Come with us?” Steve says, almost nervously.

 

Jonathan nods and follows them as they weave through the crowds, a few people gaping and wolf-whistling at Nancy, resident Good Girl, in just her bra.

 

They get to Steve’s car, parked 3 blocks away, and Nancy, real quiet, says, “Hey, Jonathan?”

 

“Mm?” He’s staring up, distracted by the stars just visible past the lights. 

 

“We—“ she pauses briefly, grabs Steve’s hand—“like you.”

 

Jonathan turns to look at her, startled. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I just assumed— I assumed you liked me. I don’t—”

 

Nancy cuts him off before he can ramble himself into more confusion. “We like like you. Romantically.” 

 

Steve grins at the so-called childish expression, but he nods when Jonathan looks at him for confirmation.

 

Jonathan pulls a sad, hurt face. “This is a joke, isn’t it?” 

 

Nancy shakes her head. “Jonathan, no, no. I mean it. We mean it.” And, as if to prove her point, she lurches forward and kisses him. 

 

He freezes up and doesn’t relax into it until Steve gently takes moves Jonathan’s hands from his sides to Nancy’s (bare) waist. 

 

Nancy smiles into the kiss and wraps her arms around Jonathan’s neck. 

 

Steve clears his throat, and Jonathan drops back, stammering and cowering slightly. Steve grabs for him as he turns to leave. “Sorry. I just—“ He leans forward and kisses Jonathan tentatively, with more softness than he reserves for Nancy, until Jonathan kisses back furiously, and then he really goes for it. 

 

Nancy lets out a joking cheer and Steve draws back a little and snorts. Then, smirking, he says, “Soooo… My parents aren’t home.” 

 

Nancy hits him but her eyes shine with interest, and when Steve turns back to Jonathan, he doesn’t look opposed to the idea. 

 

“Come on then. In the car.” Steve gestures, opening the side door. “Unless you two want to sit in the back and make out like horny teenagers while I drive.”

 

Jonathan’s lip twitches upwards. “We are horny teenagers.” 

 

Steve laughs and opens the back door. “Lady, Gentleman. Do try not to distract the driver on our journey.”

 

Nancy grins. “You’re so weird.” Her heart is saying, _“I’m never going to be full again but I’m okay. This is better. This helps.”_


End file.
